


After You've Gone

by storias



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Abuse, Action & Adventure, Columbia - Freeform, Death, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Femme Fatale, Femslash, Gore, ITS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE MR. DEWITT, Lemon, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Possibly Unrequited Love, Probably going to make reader a tsundere too, Romance, also Irish!Reader, booker won't like that, just for the sake of things, platonic girl love with Elizabeth, probably going to make Booker a tsundere, they'll probably become lesbians though who knows, tsundere feelings between booky and reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:25:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4402499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storias/pseuds/storias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There'll come a time, now don't forget it<br/>There'll come a time, when you'll regret it<br/>Some day, when you grow lonely<br/>You heart will break like mine and you'll want me only<br/>After you've gone, after you've gone away"</p><p>-</p><p>Eventual!Elizabeth x Reader<br/>Slight!Booker DeWitt x Reader<br/>or<br/>Eventual!Booker DeWitt x Reader<br/>Slight!Platonic!Elizabeth x Reader</p>
            </blockquote>





	After You've Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Eliza here! I just want to say that playing BioShock Infinite was a major treasure for me and I just have to say that it is one of the best games I've played by far. I absolutely fell in love with both Booker DeWitt and Elizabeth- It's not even funny.
> 
> So, as you probably noticed in the tags, mutliple triggers have been tagged. And since it's Columbia, there will be lots of racism in this, so I apologie in advance if this offends any of you in anyway. I'll try my damndest to keep that racism to a minimum though! Personally, I strongly dislike the idea of racism, I mean, who doesn't? It's cruel, unfair, and just overall disgusting. So if you're reading this and you think, "Hey, that's pretty offensive. What the hell are you doing, Eliza?" Then you'll have to forgive me, but I'm going to be as realistic as I can possibly be when it comes to this. But as mentioned before: I DON'T SUPPORT DISCRIMINATION IN ANY SHAPE OR FORM.
> 
> I also did an extensive amount of research for this story, and not just on BioShock, but actual historical events that take place during the 1800s and 1900s, just to make sure I'm doing everything right (Despite BioShock not being completely accurate when it comes to history and the like.). Even so, I have a strong feeling that I might get something wrong. So if I do, please be gentle, but feel free to call me out on it too!!
> 
> And finally, a disclaimer.
> 
> I really wish I owned BioShock Infinite. Fortunately, it belongs to Ken Levine and Irrational Games!!
> 
> Oh! I also just want to say that this fanfiction was inspired by, "Songbirds Calling While Angels Are Falling", written by the wonderful Mothra!
> 
> And so, without further adieu, the first chapter of "After You've Gone"!

"Come on, we ain't about to be late cuz'a you!"

Your brother was hustling you towards the local market, as your mother had asked you to accompany him during one of his usual runs. Now, she doesn't usually ask this of you, but you supposed it had to do with the fact that today was your brother's birthday, and perhaps your Mama wanted to fix up something special for the lad? It was awfully kind of her, considering that your family wasn't the wealthiest. So as you looked into the dark brown orbs in front of you, the irritation in them made you want to end this trip as soon as possible.

“Aiden, please! You know I ain’t fast as you!”

“Oh, don’t be a baby, [Name].”

Aiden Harley, a dark skinned young man who had nothing but cold hard determination, and just about the strongest will you’ve ever seen in a boy, or anyone really. He was only about five years older than you were, and despite your great admiration for him, you were sad to say he wasn’t your blood brother. And the difference in skin color wasn’t the only thing that proved this. Previously, you were known as the baby girl of the wealthy [Surname] family, but about two years ago, there was an unfortunate accident, causing the decease of your parents.

So here you were, a part of the Harley family. Thanks to this, you were constantly looked down upon whenever you were seen with one of your adopted family members, but in all honesty, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You loved your surrogate mother, along with your two siblings. But to be frank, the past years weren’t exactly the best thing that could ever happen to you.

* * *

It all started about six years ago, when you were about three years old. Your mother and father were about as much as you could ever ask for in a pair of parents. And your childhood up to that point was as great as it could get for a little girl your age. Your father had a job that paid more than enough, and your mother was rather attentive; too attentive even. She often spoiled you with dolls and frilly dresses that constantly poked and prickled your legs and arms, but you still adored the gestures. Your father was doting, and whenever he came home, he’d always shower you with presents and affection.

However, there were also times when your father wasn’t as attentive as you liked him to be. He sometimes spent days in his office, and more oft than you’d like, you wouldn’t see him for days. Your mother tried to comfort you with giving more of her attention to make up for what your father didn’t give you, but you wouldn’t settle for it. Even if this was rather spoiled of you, you didn’t care, all you wanted was to be in the arms of your beloved Papa.

“Oh, come now dear, you know yer father’s busy.” She tried to coddle you, but you only pushed her away, earning a deep disapproving frown from her. You knew better than to be a difficult child, but it’s already been three consecutive days since you’ve last seen him! You couldn’t help but feel a bit rebellious.

So as you pulled away from her, you made a quick dash to your father’s office, ignoring the calls from your mother warning you not to go in with him. And as soon as you made it to the door, you burst into the room, and you were a bit confused as to why your Papa didn’t immediately jump up in shock. Instead, he sat up from his previously slouched position and rubbed his eyes before letting his hand slide over to the back of his neck, rubbing it restlessly. “Papa!” You wasted no time in making your way around his desk and giving him the biggest hug you possibly could.

“I’m sorry, Jack. I tried stoppin’ ‘er; she just wouldn’t pay heed.” You mother came in with an apology, her eyes frantically searching the room as if she were afraid to meet with the objective eyes of her husband. Only that he wasn’t frowning upon her slip up, but smiling at her tiredly instead. So while avoiding eye contact, she made her way over and attempted to pry you away from your father, only for you to whine in response. “Now, [Name], you let go of yer father.”

“Leave ‘er be, Caoimhe. I’ve time to spare.” When the sentence left his lips, your heart swelled, and your mother was left a stuttering surprise. You were oblivious to it, but she was well aware of the sleep your father needed, and you were in the way of him getting what he needed. Your father gestured for her to make her way around the desk, and she did so, hesitantly at first, but she managed to make her way over nonetheless. When your mother was finally situated behind the two of you with her arm draped over your father’s chair, he gestured to you next, “Come ‘ere, chiseler.” You took your spot atop his lap, and giggled when he ruffled your hair fondly. Your mother protested for a moment, saying that your hair looked best while it was well kept, but gave in at the sight of the blithe but weary smile her husband wore.

Now that you were close enough, you noticed the dark circles around his eyes, and so you gingerly lifted your hand to make contact with his skin. “Papa, why do your eyes look like that?” He chuckled and took your significantly smaller hand in his, rubbing his thumb comfortingly against the back of your palm.

“Don’t worry, love. It isn’t somethin’ to worry about.” Your mother frowned, “Now what about you, [Name]? How has the day treated you?" You became excited at the thought of having a possibly lengthy conversation with your father, so you began to tell your tale. At certain points, you knew your father was seconds away from nodding off, and this made you feel guilty all throughout your story. This affected your storytelling, and what once started out as a tale of jubilee ended in a rather solemn note. “You should have given the bird to your mother, hon’.”

“I know, Papa, but I wanted to help!” Earlier today while accompanying your mother outside in the garden, you came across a small injured bird. You felt responsible for it, and didn’t want to tell your mother, as you felt old enough to take care of it yourself. Of course, you had forgotten about the fact that not all three year olds were very knowledgeable on medicine, so it was an innocent mistake on your part.

“I know sweetheart.” He planted a kiss on your forehead, before wrapping his arms around you and standing up with you in his arms. “Now, little miss, you best be getting to bed.” You complained about this, saying that you weren’t tired at all, contradictory to the yawn that escaped your mouth after the little outburst. You could see the chiding look your mother gave you as she trailed behind your father on the way to your room. And just as you rested your head upon your Papa’s shoulder, he plucked you from his embrace, placing you into your bed and tucking you in.

There were goodnight kisses and whispers of having sweet dreams, and you allowed your eyes to finally flutter to a close with those warm regards. And for a moment, everything was seemingly perfect in your short little existence.

* * *

It had been approximately four months since that moment in time, and it was rather unfortunate to say that your father’s condition only worsened. He had contracted insomnia, and you often heard some heated calls coming from his office. You couldn’t help but become worried for your father, and even had some days where you neglected outside activities. Noticing the change in your attitude, your mother made it her personal mission to take you wherever she went, just to get you out of the house and away from your father.

“Ma, will Papa be okay by himself?”

“Of course dear,” she gestured for you to turn around, adjusting the blue bow that held your dress together. You felt her hands in your hair, and winced a bit as she began to comb through it’s tangles. “your father needs a little rest, is all. He’ll get better, you’ll see.” You took her word at the time, but if you were a little older than you were, you would have known better than that. Your hair was eventually in a braid with a small blue bow centered where it began from the top, and your fingers moved around to grip your hair, taking in the slightly bumpy feel to it.

Your mother stood up from her position and grabbed her sunhat before smiling down at you, offering her hand for you to take. “Come dear, we best be leaving now.” As soon as you laced your fingers with hers, she lead you out the door, exposing you to the outside world. As you were walking, your mother came to a halt, witnessing a friend of hers who seemed to be passing by. It was a woman and her daughter, who seemed to only be about a few years older than you were.

“Well, I’ll be. Caoimhe! It’s been a mighty long time since I’ve seen you.” You noticed that the woman spoke in a particularly odd manner, as it was different from what you were accustomed to hearing. She and your mother exchanged quick greetings before the dark skinned woman turned her gaze towards you, eyes lighting up when your eyes made contact with hers. “This your little angel?” Your mother nudged you towards the woman, and your curtsied shyly, causing her to laugh heartily. “Oh, Caoimhe, she’s jus’ like yourself! Come ‘ere dear.” She bent down and opened her arms, expecting a hug. You complied, hesitantly of course, but it was only then you noticed the smell of her clothes, not to mention the fact that she was rather sweaty. When the embrace came to an end, you stepped away and looked down at your shoes.

You ignored their conversation for the most part, and it wasn’t until your mother called your name that you looked up. “Say goodbye to Abigail, sweetie.” You muttered a goodbye, and she sent you one of the brightest smiles you’ve ever seen in your life. You felt a bit flustered, and you hid behind your mother until she left. It was only then you realized that the woman left her daughter behind. You looked to your mother for answers, and she gladly filled you in on what was going on. “This is Clementine, dear. She’ll be spendin’ time with us until her Ma gets a few chores done.”

You pursed your lips in confusion, looking at the little girl standing not too far away from you. She wasn’t a sight you were you used to, especially because of her clothing. They were mostly worn out, and you were curious as to why that was. And as a child, you couldn’t help but let that curiosity get the best of you. As your mother proceeded forward, you followed, but at the side of Clementine. You pulled on the older girl’s sleeve, and she looked down at you in expectancy, “Why are your clothes dirty Clem?” She seemed a little taken aback, but answered your question nonetheless.

“Jus’ doin’ lotsa work. Y’all have it easy.”

“Really? But isn’t working only for grown ups?” She looked slightly exasperated by your childish innocence, but took the time to explain things to you.

“Bein’ six years o’ age don’t mean you’re escapin’ a day’s work. Y’all have it easy, least that’s how it seems.” Talk like that made little sense to a three year old, but you understood some of it. What you didn’t understand was the ‘why’ factor of it all. “Ya see, you whites don’t treat us too well,” you frowned at how she described the two of you as two different beings, and this talk seemed to bring the attention of your mother as well, “y’all are different though. Either way, you ain’t even white.” Unbeknownst to you, your mother turned away at this point, while you only tilted your head, puzzled. “Don’t matter much anyway, cuz we’re ‘free’ now.” She had this bitter look on her face, and it made you sad to some extent, “Ah, don’t pay me no nevermind. What’s ya name?”

“[Name].” You introduced, resulting in her giving you a friendly pat on the shoulder. Now, you didn’t know very much about the outside world, or politics for that matter, but you had a feeling that what Clementine and her Mother were going through wasn’t fair at all, and the concept of why they were treated they way they were was vexing. Either way, you wanted to know more about the whole thing, so at the end of the day when Clementine had to leave, you asked your mother if you could see her again someday. She said yes, of course, but once you prepared for yet another day’s end, you popped the question that has been bothering you since your conversation with Clementine.

“Ma?” She shifted from her spot on the bed, making herself comfortable as she proceeded with undoing the bindings that kept your braid together and in place. Humming in response to your prompted call, you went on to ask, “How come Clem says you’re different from the other people?” You felt her fingers falter, and she quieted down for a moment, as if finding a way to properly word whatever she was going to say to you. Your mother alway took the time to review whatever she was going to say, and your father always said that he found this trait quite humbling.

She started moving her hands again, “Well dear, there are some terrible people who sometimes see others as inferior to them. Say, if they don’t have the same skin color or are simply born with different parents than they’re expected to have. To most, those differences are everythin’.” Her explanation brought an inexplicable feeling into your chest, and you couldn’t help but scrunch your face up in disgust. Did your mother think the same way?

As if to ease your conscience, your mother spun you around to face her, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Babby, let me ask you somethin’. Do you and Clementine have hair? Perhaps a nose? Or even toes? Surely one of you lacks toes.”

You giggled at your mother’s trivial questioning, “Of course we both have toes, Ma! Don’t be silly.”

She smiled, poking your nose playfully, “Exactly. So the differences those dopey men and women talk about? Those are just ramblings of a crazy person!” You nodded your head vigorously, giving your mother a big hug. She sighed and rested her chin atop your head, hugging you tightly before planting a kiss on the side of your head. “I love you very much my dear.”

“I love you too, Ma.”

* * *

Today was the day of your sixth birthday, and you were very pleased to say that all of your bestest friends had been invited to spend the day with you. Of course, the group of said best friends happened to be your mother and father, along with Abigail and her two children, Aiden and Clementine. Most other little girls and boys you had met didn’t exactly take too kindly to the fact that you mingled with the ‘Darks’, so you found them unworthy of being your friend.

“Papa, do you promise to spend the whole day with me?” You heard him laugh, and as he looked down at you, you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“I wouldn’t miss yer birthday for the world, sweet pea, ya know that.” His words comforted you, and for that, you forgave him for leaving you alone with your mother all those past days. Her teaching you proper etiquette wasn’t as excited as you thought it would be. So, you thanked him for liberating you from your mother’s clutches, even if it was only for a day, “It was no trouble, sweetie.” He ruffled your hair, only to get an earful from your mother about messing up your hair. He simply chuckled lightheartedly, raising his hands up in defense when your mother stormed over.

“Honestly, Jack. Every time you see her hair in perfect form, you always think it’s the moment to mess up hours of my hard work. Can’t you stop acting the maggot?” She pulled you over to a chair and sat you down, pulling your hair out of it’s ponytail and beginning from scratch. You giggled at the sight of your father sending you a teasing wink, ignoring your huffing mother.

Not long after that you heard a knock on your door with your father calling out that he’d get it. And once you heard Abigail’s voice you grew excited, squirming in your seat only to be scolded by your mother. “[Name]! Don’t be difficult!” You whined in protest only for her to hush you, “[Name], please. You’re goin’ to embarrass yourself in front of your guests!” At this, you pouted in defeat, forcing yourself to be patient until your mother finished up.

“Huh, well, be that as it may, you know as well as I do that every shuteye ain’t sleep.” You saw your father leading Abigail and her children into the living room, with her looking around nonchalantly while your father looked as if he had just kicked a puppy. “Bet ya don’t even listen to ya wife. Look at ya!” He was now rubbing the back of his head in guilt, obviously not taking Abigail's chiding too well. So as soon as your Ma finished up with your hair, you rushed over to the woman in an attempt to get a little heat off of your father. “Why ain’t it the star o’ the day.” She smiled down at you, and you noticed that she had made an attempt to clean herself up for your party, along with Aiden and Clementine.

You sent the her the widest smile you could muster, and greeted her with a friendly hug. After you pulled apart, she told you to do a little twirl in your poofy little dress, which you compiled to despite it prickling your legs heavily after you stopped. You then moved onto Clementine, who, to your surprise, was almost as short as you were. Or had you just grown taller? It was definitely the latter. “Clem! I’m almost as tall as you!” She rolled her eyes at you as you went on to compare your heights, only for her to tell you you still had a long way to go. And when you stuck out your tongue at her teasing, she merely laughed. “I’m so close though!”

Ruffling your hair, she chuckled once more before bending down a bit to envelope you in a hug. “Sure you are.” She stood back up and nudged her older brother, Aiden. You had only met Aiden a handful of times, but so far, he sort of intimidated you. “Come on,” he pursed his lips and gave you a strained smile, going for a more subtle greeting instead of the affectionate ones Clementine and Abigail gave you. You winced at the weight of his hand upon your head, but all worries were cleared when you caught that ghost of a smile that fled his expression as soon as you saw it.

You were in a bit of a daze until your mother clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, now that you’re all here, why don’t we-” She was interrupted by the sound of the telephone ringing, the source obviously being your father’s office.

Without so much as a single glance towards you, your father made his way towards his office and picked up the phone, and moments after, he closed to the door to his office, leaving you to wallow in disappointment. Your mother assured you that he’d be off the phone soon, but that hope was thrown away as soon as you heard shouting. You clenched your small fists together and bit your lip, holding back your tears as you made your way to your room.

A typical birthday without your father wasn’t very surprising, but this time, you felt it impact you more than you thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, the pacing of this chapter was a bit... meh.  
> But I tried, so that's what mattered? Maybe?  
> Ahh, well, I hoped you enjoyed it nonetheless.  
> Prepare yourselves for more to come! (At least I hope?)


End file.
